La Vita Nuova
by Oleander's One
Summary: Fenris and Hawke's endless circling finally drains Isabela's limited store of patience.


_Many thanks, as always, to mille libri, for the beta excellence!_

* * *

The four women gathered in Carlen Hawke's library, as they had nearly every Thursday since they had met in wildly unlikely circumstances, seven years ago.

"That's twos and aces, and a run of four. Gin."

"And six from me," Hawke said.

"Twenty." Aveline shook her head. "That's the hand and game, Poxy. Again."

Isabela raised her glass. "Steady your glasses, here comes the gale. Batten the hatches, and lean over the rail!"

Clink.

Merrill raised her head from the floor and looked around blearily. "You have such a pretty boat, Isabela, and the waves are fun, too. Listen to the gulls!"

"That's only Sandal, Kitten, go back to sleep." Isabela picked up the cards, shuffling them deftly in one hand. She reached with the other and pinched Hawke on the thigh.

"Stop it, Isabela."

"Hm. Not quite there yet." Isabela raised her glass again. "To nipples! Without them, boobs would be pointless."

"I'm not drinking to breasts, tramp."

"All the more for me and Hawke, then."

Clink.

"Boobs!"

"That's right, Kitten."

"Out of curiosity, Isabela, why are we drinking to insensibility?" Hawke asked.

"We're not. You are. Or rather, to that place where you start getting maudlin about Lothering and reciting the hilarious story of When I Found Carver And Peaches In The Hayloft."

"I thought you liked that story," Hawke said in a wounded tone.

"Maybe the first half-dozen times."

Aveline shrugged. "I use the time to reschedule Lowtown rotations in my head."

"Don't listen to them, Hawke." Merrill giggled. "That one's my favorite."

"If I'm such a riveting storyteller, why keep feeding me booze?"

Aveline took the bottle from Isabela and topped off the glasses. "Because anything's better than silence, Hawke."

"You've been bundled up tight ever since all of the fun with Danarius at the Hanged Man. We already have one Aveline, we don't need two."

"You've not exactly been the model of openness yourself, Isabela," Hawke said coolly.

The pirate flinched at the rebuke, then stood stiffly and turned her back on the table, making a show of examining the bookshelves.

"Look, I'm sorry about that, Bela."

"No worries. All water under the keel." Softening, she turned and smirked at Hawke. "That's the last one of those you get, though. Next time, I get to punch you in the kidney."

"Got it. Kidneys."

Isabela plucked a book from the shelf at random. "Maybe you just need to have some fun, Hawke. If you don't get those knees open once in a while, you'll start to creak like Aveline."

"Need I remind you, I've been married for three months, whore."

"That's right. Consummated it yet?" Isabela put the book back, picked another. "It's still a few hours until dawn; let's move this party to the Rose. Jethann has a 'Friends of Isabela' buy-one-get-one special running right now. Fix you right up, Hawke."

"Fix Hawke!"

"Damn straight, Kitten. Unless all this is you still pining for another elf altogether? Smoldering. Lanky. Slanky."

"Shut up, Isabela," Hawke muttered and looked away.

"He's a good man, Hawke."

"Aveline?"

"I wasn't sure of him at first, but he's proven himself. And after that business with Danarius, he's more or less a free man."

"I can't believe this is you saying this to me." Hawke tossed back the last of her glass and reached for the bottle. "Should I send him some nice bronze violets or something?"

"Joke all you want. But if I had taken your advice and been straight-forward with Donnic, it would've saved a great deal of time and humiliation on my part."

"Wouldn't have bought me nearly as many rounds at the Hanged Man, however." Isabela smirked.

"How much more straight-forward than 'You have me' could I have been? He looked at me as if he couldn't believe I had said it. I can't believe I said it." Hawke lifted the half-empty bottle to her glass. Changing her mind, she put it down again, and rose carefully to her feet. "I hate to be a bad hostess, but I just can't keep my eyes open. Stay as long as you like, ladies."

"Why doesn't Hawke just grab him and kiss him?" Merrill asked when she had gone. "He watches her with those puppy eyes whenever she isn't looking."

"Love is more than puppy eyes, Merrill."

"You're always overcomplicating things, big girl. We lock them in the same room until they either climb on top of each other, or …" Isabela replaced the book on the shelf, one finger running down the spine. "Then again."

~oOo~

"You know, you could go anywhere you want, now."

"I am aware of that."

Isabela had timed her visit to Fenris's mansion carefully, expecting Hawke for the reading lesson at any time. "You could be a raider! You could join my crew."

"No."

"I think you'd enjoy working under me." She gave the elf a direct look.

"No."

Isabela stood and stretched languidly. "Think about it. I'd have to search far and wide to find a seaman so … able-bodied." She let herself out as Hawke entered, not missing Hawke's quickly-smothered look of dismay at finding her in Fenris's company.

Isabela turned when she was halfway down the stairs and crept to the door. Keeping to the shadows, she watched and listened.

"I couldn't help overhearing Isabela offer you a place on her ship. Had you ever sailed before accompanying Danarius to Seheron?"

"Not that I remember, and I spent that journey below, as Danarius preferred. I'm not certain I would make a good sailor."

"I'm sure that you would make a fine one, if you chose," Hawke said in a hollow voice. "And as you said, there's nothing holding you back now."

"That is not precisely what I …"

"Maybe we should get on with the reading. Although you hardly need my assistance. It looks like we're almost at the end of that one."

Fenris cleared his throat.

_Forging a path through the ranks of groaning, humiliated assassins, the stunning, raven-haired mercenary shared a look of perfect understanding with the dwarf at her side._

_"How many friends you think these idiots have outside?" she asked, grinning._

_"Never enough, Harrier, never enough. I'm four up on you right now, you know."_

_"Can't we catch our breath for a moment?" the mage behind them pleaded. "Plunging from battle to battle, no rest—it's inhuman!"_

_"Then you better magic yourself up a horse, Goldie …" The dwarf hoisted his gleaming arbalest._

_"… because we're gonna ride!" Harrier kicked the door open and leapt into battle. An echoing cry tore from her throat as she laid waste with her flashing swords._

Hawke laughed uncomfortably. "This almost sounds like it could have been written by ..." A look of dawning horror crossed her face, but Fenris was already continuing.

_Harrier surv- survied-_

"Surveyed," Hawke said in a small voice.

_Harrier surveyed the carnage; torn bits decorated the _vhenadahl_ like Satinalia decorations, the dead and wounded piled in a grisly bulwark around the three heroes. Vaulting the pile nimbly, she stopped and bent an incredulous look on her trusty dwarf. "They just don't know when to call it a day, do they?" She flipped a hand at the stairs, and the hulking soldier stalking down them._

_"Right behind you, Harrier."_

Hawke's hands twisted in her lap, her eyes flicking to the door and escape. Isabela retreated deeper into the shadows.

_The Tevinter took in the twitching remains of his slavers, scattered about the square. "I'll do you for that!"_

_"Your men are dead, slaver." The rumbling pronouncement issued from the stairs. A tall elf in black raised one gauntlet, brandishing the razor-sharp tips menacingly. "As are you."_

_"Right. Look, let's not be hasty—"_

_The elf leaped at the Tevinter, sinking his hand deep in the man's chest. The slaver slid to the ground with a thunderous clatter._

_"I am Freki," the elf growled broodingly. "I admit that I did not expect to find allies against these slavers; I am in your debt."_

_"I am Harrier. This is Flanders, and …" She trailed off as she fell into the lush green of his eyes. Here was a strength, a tenacity to match hers. The moonlight glinted off his silver-white hair, caressed the lines and whorls of his markings like a lover's—_

Fenris paused in his reading, his eyes locked on the page.

"I think I know how this story ends." Hawke whispered brokenly. She stood and edged away from the table.

"Hawke."

"And really, you're reading so well now. You haven't needed my help for some time." She half-tripped on a broken floor tile as she backed towards the door. "G-good night, Fenris." She turned and hurried down the stairs.

"Hawke!"

Isabela swore silently and made her way carefully from the estate.

~oOo~

Hawke woke to a blinding headache and the scratch of a quill on parchment. "I hate you," she croaked. "I hate you, your brother, your parents, your ancestors, and every person you've ever met."

"Hey, now." Varric chuckled softly. "In another reality, where Rivaini doesn't steal my manuscript, tie it into another binding, and substitute it for an Exalted Age period piece, you'd have thought it was hilarious."

"Right. Because fighting in chain mail smalls and yodeling at the top of my lungs can only add to my reputation." She sighed. "Where am I?"

"Your mother's room."

"I haven't been in here since she died." Hawke opened her eyes. Under the lingering odor of rum, she could still smell the jasmine scent that her mother used. She forced down a wave of homesickness. "How did I get here?"

"Bodahn says that you ordered him to bring you a glass and a bottle, then locked yourself in. He called me to pick the lock when he couldn't hear you moving around anymore. Orana cleaned you up a bit and put you to bed. You always were a bit of a lightweight, Hawke; I'll need you to work on that for the sequel."

"Varric."

"Too soon?" He waved a cup of minty-smelling tea under her nose, which she accepted. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I … no. I just need some time, I think."

"Sure, Hawke. Still hate me?"

"Well, you've pulled ahead of Meredith, but you're still lagging behind locusts and Hubert."

"Ouch. Where would those ivory silk gloves from Mme. Tousignant get me?"

"Hm. Neck-and-neck with Bad Poet."

"Tough room. Well, you know where to find me, Hawke."

~oOo~

Carlen retreated to her room and the large window looking over the square. The increasingly heavy Templar patrols seemed to unnerve even the jaded Hightown nobles; those that were out on the square hurried about their tasks, with only a few brief words for their neighbors. Bodahn knocked and entered, leaving a tray with more tea, a selection of pastries, and a small stack of correspondence on her desk.

Pouring herself a fresh cup of tea, Hawke put aside the letters and opened the thin book that lay on top. She recognized it as the book of Antivan poetry that had been one of the first texts she and Fenris has read together. A scrap of parchment marked a short passage.

_In that book which is my memory,_

_On the first page that is the chapter when I first met you,_

A soft baritone spoke from the door.

_Appear the words, 'Here begins a new life'. ‡_

"Fenris." Hawke pulled her robe closed over her wrinkled, spotted tunic. "I didn't hear you come up."

"I do not wish to intrude," he said at the same moment.

"The tea is hot if you—"

"No. I mean, no thank you." Fenris stopped halfway into the room, as if unsure of his welcome.

"Fenris, I …" Her nerve broke. "You haven't had any problems with any of Danarius's men that fled that night at the Hanged Man?"

"None that will dare face me without their master. No doubt they have run back to Tevinter to lick at another's hand." His gaze moved to the window, and the city beyond. "Every move, every plan that I've made since I fled was made knowing that he would never stop looking for me. This feeling … it is not what I had expected."

"How not?"

"The options that had never been open to me, the choices that are only mine to make. I suppose … I suppose that I'm finally free to build a new life."

"Will you stay in Kirkwall?" Hawke asked, her voice catching.

Fenris turned to meet her eyes. "I would, given one who might wish me to stay."

"I do, very much," she said softly. "What happened between us …"

"For three years I've tried to imagine how things might be had I chosen differently that night, had the courage to stay. I've wanted to ask your forgiveness every day since."

"You've had it, for a long time. I've regretted every day that fear has kept me from telling you that."

"At the Hanged Man, after my sister fled. What you said …"

"I thought I had made a terrible mistake."

"I couldn't imagine that you had forgiven me, couldn't bring myself to believe you might still care for me. I was a coward, yet again."

"We can't live those years over, but there is a future to be had." Hawke raised a hand to his cheek, fingertips trailing on his warm skin.

"And I would meet it at your side." Fenris slid his arms around her waist, and his mouth met hers.

"I might have to apologize to Isabela," Hawke whispered after a long moment.

"Perhaps," Fenris whispered, his breath warm on her neck. "But not tonight."

* * *

‡ _La Vita Nuova_, Dante Alighieri


End file.
